


Exactly What You Need

by MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Dark Original Percival Graves, Date Rape, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gaslighting, Groping, Internalized Victim Blaming, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Misogyny, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Parties, Queenie Goldstein (Briefly), Rape, Rape Aftermath, Sexism, Unconscious Sex, Undressing, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Victim Blaming, Vulnerability, graves shushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Tina blinks heavily, a warm drowsiness settling over her which makes it hard to keep up with Graves’ conversation.  She shakes her head to clear it, but it only makes her dizzy.  Graves catches her when she turns to face him and nearly topples over, his arm secure around her shoulders.  She giggles, trying to bring her glass to her lips, but Graves stops her hand.“Ah-ah Tina, I think that’s enough.  How much have you had to drink?”





	Exactly What You Need

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to kallistob for cheering this fic on <3

* * *

Tina stands alone by the buffet table, glass in hand.  There’s a great swell of activity around her, music filling the gorgeous room, people talking and laughing and drifting from one conversation to the next with all the elegance currently escaping her.  The chandeliers drip with crystals, starlight shines through the windows, and Tina downs the rest of her drink.

She’d been excited for the party, her first of the big MACUSA galas.  She knew a large part of it was for show and publicity, but that didn’t change the thrill she’d gotten at being invited.

What she hadn’t realized was that while she’s senior enough to attend, she still hardly knows anyone else there.  It seems as though everybody knows everybody, or at least knows someone to introduce them to everybody, except for Tina.  She catches occasional glimpses of the president through the crowd, sees people walk past she thinks she might know from somewhere, but O’Connell disappeared a half hour in and Lamond has been enthusiastically entertaining a group of Austrian wizards since eight O’clock.  Since then, Tina has been adrift.

“Goldstein,” says a voice on her left, and Tina jumps.

“Oh - Mr Graves!”

Graves leans back against the pillar Tina was hiding behind, glass in hand, and lets out a breath.

“The German ambassador is a nightmare when he’s drunk,” he mutters by way of explanation.  “You don’t mind giving me a bit of cover, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Tina says, shaking her head.  Not only does she not mind, she’s downright relieved to have found someone she knows, even if she doesn’t know the Director well.  Maybe the gala won’t be such a miserable experience after all.  “Not enjoying the party, sir?”

Graves laughs hollowly.  “Oh, it’s a wonderful idea.  Put all of New York’s political figures in a room and lock them in, then come back in a few hours and see what happened.  I guarantee you everybody here is trying to avoid someone else in this room.”  Graves shakes his head with a scowl, then attempts to rally.  “You must be enjoying yourself.  It’s your first time at one of these, isn’t it?”

“It is, yes.  It’s, ah… I was very glad to be invited.”

Graves looks at her for a second, then laughs.  “Very diplomatic, Goldstein.  You’re learning.  Here’s part of the problem,” he says, noticing her empty glass.  “You’ll never get through one of these things sober.”

With a quick movement he turns away from her and plucks a new drink from one of the trays floating past them, pressing it into her hand and whisking her old glass away.  Tina smiles and raises her glass in a mock salute before taking a sip.  She feels a little more secure now that the Director is here, not nearly so out of place, and it’s comforting that she’s not the only one to find the situation less than delightful.

Though it’s not how she pictured for the evening, she finds that the more she talks with Graves the more comfortable she feels.  He takes it upon himself to point out all the important people in the room, accompanying each name with an anecdote which makes them seem almost human.  Between the stories and the drinks she keeps finding in her hand he has her giggling, feeling warm and relaxed and a little lightheaded, but enjoying herself infinitely more.

Before long she’s blinking heavily, a warm drowsiness settling over her which makes it hard to keep up with Graves’ conversation.  She shakes her head to clear it, but it only makes her dizzy.

Graves catches her when she turns to face him and nearly topples over, his arm secure around her shoulders.  She giggles, trying to bring her glass to her lips, but Graves stops her hand.

“Ah-ah Tina, I think that’s enough.  How much have you had to drink?”

Tina frowns.  She had… some?  Some drinks.  All she knows is that the glass in her hand was always full.  She hadn’t had to think about it.  Hadn’t Graves said something about not being sober at the party?

“Silly girl, you overdid it.  Come on, let’s get you home.”

Tina leans against Graves’ chest as he guides her through the room, glad for his solid strength.  She isn’t quite sure what’s going on, but going home sounds nice.  She hadn’t really wanted to be here anyway, and she’s so lightheaded she’d just like to lay down.

“Thanks Mr Graves,” she mumbles, and he chuckles.

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

The endearment makes Tina feels a little funny, but it’s okay.  Graves is being so kind, staying with her all night and helping her get home, and it’s not as though she actually minds.  She stumbles, more of her weight falling on Graves, and he holds her steady.

When the cool evening air hits her face she gasps.  It washes over her, easing some of her drowsiness, and it feels good on her heated cheeks.  The quiet of the night is a welcome contrast to the bustle of the gala, and the sudden silence makes her head buzz.  She feels a little more alert, more herself, and she blinks, pulling away from Graves and attempting to standing on her own.

Graves’ hand tightens on her waist, pulling her in.  “Hold tight darling,” he murmurs in her ear, and before Tina understands his words she feels the world collapse in on her..

Tina sags against Graves’ chest, apparition and alcohol mixing to make her feel miserable.  Her head falls against his shoulder and she groans, gripping the front of his jacket to anchor herself.

The world tips precariously as he leads her forward a few steps, sitting her down on the sofa.  She just breathes, trying to recover, and when she’s steady enough to open her eyes she frowns.

This isn’t her living room.

She looks around dazedly, taking in the antique furniture, the spacious layout, the beautiful drapes over the floor to ceiling windows.  This must be Graves’ home.  Why would he bring her here?  She thought he would take her to _her_ home.  Queenie’s there, Queenie would help her feel better, she could sleep and recover and deal with everything in the morning.

Before she can wonder too much Graves presses a glass into her hand.

“Drink some water Tina, it’ll help.”

Slowly Tina raises the glass to her lips and sips it, making a face at the taste.  She tries to put it down but Graves catches her hand, gently holding her head and helping her tip the glass until the water flows over her tongue.  Tina sputters a little but manages to swallow, and is rewarded by Graves’ warm tone.

“Good girl.  Drink up, it’s good for you.”

Graves holds the glass for her until it’s empty, and when he lets go she falls sideways onto the seat of the sofa.

 

 

Graves sets the empty glass on the coffee table and looks down at the woman on his couch.  The lines of her body are soft and relaxed, the glittery fabric of her dress clinging to her in the most enticing way as she lies limp.  It had been much too easy considering that Tina was an auror.

Graves kneels down, sliding his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, and lifts her.  He carries her as though she weighed nothing.  She tries to speak, probably some sort of question, but all that she can manage is a weak moan.  Her head lolls to the side, and he shushes her.

“Hush, doll.  Just be good, it’ll be easier.”

She doesn’t persist.

Graves sets her down on the bed, her head cushioned by a pillow.  She tries to curl into it, but as he watches she seems to give up when all she can manage is a twitch of her hand.

“Gorgeous,” Graves murmurs above her.  “Where to start with you?”

He sits beside her, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek almost reverently.  He trails his finger down her neck, over the rise of her breast, marveling at her.  The touch is gentle, slow, tracing circles into her skin, and he can see Tina trying to process it.  He wonders if she would stop him, if she could.

Instead she makes a little, meaningless sound which slips past her parted lips.

“Does that feel good?” Graves asks, and Tina’s face tenses with confusion before smoothing out again.  She can’t answer, but Graves loves to see her try - to see her struggle to understand what he’s doing to her.

Graves’ finger traces her neckline, and then his palm settles over her breast.  He squeezes lightly, feeling the softness of her, the way her body gives.  With one fingernail he finds her nipple, circling it until it pebbles up into a little bump.  He flicks his finger back and forth over it, quick, teasing, working until it’s peaked and hard through the fabric of her dress.

He covets seeing her bare, nothing to conceal her pink skin, but he knows that it's more satisfying to savor the moment.  There's no point rushing past this, not when he has all the time in the world.

He brings his fingers back to her neckline, feeling the rough lace trim beneath his fingers.  Slowly, purposefully, he slides two fingers under the edge of the fabric.  She's so soft, and he cups her with his other hand as he keeps stroking.  There's something so intimate about touching her like this, clothed yet vulnerable before him, and he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of it.

He can take his time.  There’s no hurry, no urgency, he has all night to do with her as he likes.  He intends to go slowly, taking in every gasp and shiver as he plays with her little body.  She can’t stop him, she can only lie still and accept her place.

He traces his fingers up to her collarbone, stroking the subtle ridge, before pushing the strap of her dress down off her shoulder.  She’s pale and delicate in the dim light, helpless on his bed.

He brings both hands down over the rise of her breasts once more, squeezing before he circles her waist, her hips, stroking and caressing her sides in a slow rhythm.  One hand finds the dip of her waist, just above the ridge of her hipbone, and when he pets her there she shivers minutely at the tickle.

“Oh darling, are you sensitive there?”

He loves this part, learning all the tender spots.

He circles her waist with both hands, stroking and petting her before he lightly scrapes his fingernails up that soft place below her ribs.

Despite her sedation she whimpers _,_ body pressing into his hands in search of more as her head rolls to the side.  He’s only too happy to oblige, her whine stirring his cock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you - such a needy thing, Merlin.  You’re just aching to be played with.”

He worries that spot at her waist, learning how she likes the pressure, how to make her pant and cry.  God, he loves her noises; tiny sounds that fall from her parted lips, so small and plaintive, her body overwhelmed with what it so clearly needs.

Eventually he slides a hand over to press his palm to her belly, letting his eyes rake back up to her breasts.  They’re perfect, soft handfuls ripe to cup and squeeze.  He’s loved her breasts since she first started in his department; young, so full of energy and spark, and with a bounce in her step which made it a daily challenge to ignore how beautiful her tits were as she walked.  She’s been waiting for him, ready, ripe, and now he can finally take her.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.  “Are you ready to show me?  You’re so gorgeous darling, I can’t wait to see.”

Slowly he slides his arms around her, carefully supporting her head as he lifts her up to lay against his chest.  She strains a little, or she tries to, and Graves’ warm hands circle her, taking her waist and brushing his thumbs up and down.  The movement is soothing, calming her as he rubs little circles into the dip of her waist.

“Come on baby girl, just relax.”

Tina melts against him, tension easing out of her body.

“There you go.  Good girl.”

Graves rests one hand on the nape of her neck, toying with her hair.  She's sensitive there too, and the warmth of his hand sinks into her.  He presses her close against his chest, possessive, safe, and her breathing deepens.  His fingers find the pull of her zipper, and in a long, fluid movement he draws it down her back.

The fabric parts to reveal the expanse of her skin, smooth and interrupted only by the subtle bumps of her spine.  He can just see the lacy top of her panties peeking, and he smooths a hand down her spine to trace along them with a finger.

She’s not wearing a bra, and his mouth waters to finally, _finally_ see his prize.

He slides the dress from her shoulders, letting the shimmery fabric pool around her waist.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes.  He cups her with one hand, feeling the weight of her breast, the softness, as he begins massaging her.  The pale rise of her breast is flawless, fitting perfectly in his hand and complemented by the dusky pink of her areola.  Her nipples are pebbled up into little points, cute and perked in response to his touch.  “You have such pretty nipples,” he says, rolling one gently between his fingers.  It prompts a little whimper and a sigh, and he smiles.  “Lovely.”

With something approaching reverence, he leans down and suckles one of the little buds into his mouth.  With quick swipes of his tongue he circles it, licking and sucking and holding her so close, feeling a curl of satisfaction at the tremor that runs through her.

She’s truly exquisite.  How did he manage to wait so long?

When the angle of his neck becomes uncomfortable he straightens up, hand returning to her breast.  His fingers slide over it easily, slick and wet as it is.  He takes her nipple gently yet firmly and tugs, almost as though milking, pulling until his fingers slip off.  He repeats the motion again, again, until her nipple is swollen and puffy from the attention, and then he works the other side.

Eventually he lays her back against the pillows, cushioning her and making her comfortable.  He takes in the sight of her, half undressed, before he helps her free of her dress.  He works it down past her hips, pulling it free of her legs until she's left in just her panties and stockings.  He tosses the dress away, unconcerned with it - he'll hang it up later, but now, all he can think about is the woman before him.

He lifts her calves to remove her stockings, tossing them after the dress and running his hands over her to feel the shape of her legs.  He's so close now, so close to knowing her so intimately, and his own arousal throbs with it.  He has to press his eyes shut, breathe, and marshal his control before he can look at her again lest he simply take her then and there.

Patience, he needs to have patience.  He doesn't hurry these things; he knows that he would regret it later if he rushed.  There is nothing like savoring a woman's body.

When he has control of himself again he places his hands on her hips, gently massaging that spot at her waist before bringing his hands lower, down to her thighs.  She’s so soft everywhere.  He strokes the outside of her legs before letting his fingers creep inwards, up to the crease of her thigh.  Her little movements are a delight, legs spreading minutely to invite him further, closer towards that intimate part of herself.

“You want to be touched there.  Little slut, how long have you been waiting for this?”  He presses against her slit through her panties, and she's so _wet._  She’s soaked through, he can feel the dampness, the way the fabric slides against her as he rubs.  God, but she’s such a slut.  She must have waited so long for someone to take her, he can picture it now.  Her breasts aching, pussy dripping, chewing her lip at work as she thinks about a man’s hands.  Craving being filled, a silly little girl just waiting to be played with, her little body so soft and warm.  Going out after work perhaps, finding dark clubs and speakeasies where she sits at the bar, waiting to feel a warm hand slide under her blouse and make her gasp.  That way she could play at being modest even as she let herself be led away, putting up only a trifle of resistance to the man bold enough to claim her.

Now, that man is Graves.

He shakes himself from his fantasy, focus returning to the girl waiting for him.  He presses his thumb against her, rubbing her little clit through her panties and watching her eyelashes flutter.  He finds his impatience rising, eager to be inside her.  With one hand he tugs her panties aside, and with the other he presses his fingers into her folds.

He groans at the feeling of it.  She’s hot and wet, positively dripping, her pussy unbelievably soft.  He presses against her entrance, feeling the slight give as the tip of his finger starts to slip inside, her body already starting to open up for him.  It’s incredible, how eager she is.

Reluctantly he pulls his hand back, but it is only to work her panties down off her hips, pulling them past her thighs, untangling them from her ankles until _finally_ she’s bare before him.  Her legs are just parted, head turned to the side to expose the line of her neck, and despite his insistent arousal he takes a moment to appreciate the sight.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs as he spreads her thighs.  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

With the panties gone there’s nothing in his way, nothing at all to deter him from touching her.

And touch her he does.  With one hand he spreads the lips of her pussy, exposing her little clit, her entrance, her glistening wet folds.  He can smell her arousal, sweet and heavy, and it goes straight to his cock.

“You’re so wet already, you were just made for this.  You were made for a cock inside you baby, you must have felt so empty.”

He bends down on the bed, pushing her thighs farther apart and leaning close enough that her heady scent fills him.  She’s so pink and soft, such a good girl, and he can’t resist a taste.  He keeps her spread wide open as he buries his nose in her soft curls, lips pressed against her wetness to give her a deep, open mouthed kiss.  He feels her quiver, and he doesn’t give her time to recover before he presses his tongue to her entrance, groaning at the taste of her slickness.  He swirls his tongue over her, relaxing her, before he licks a stripe up to her clit.  With his teeth he exposes the little bud, making her shake, before he flicks his tongue over it.  He does it again, quicker, fingers finding her entrance and starting to press inside.  She clenches around him as his finger opens her up, muscles tensing.  Her hips twitch, and with a smile he returns his attention to her clit, suckling her.

She _moans,_ soft and light, loving it.  Slowly, firmly, he presses his finger into that wet heat of her, feeling the way she tenses around him to pull him deeper inside, desperate to be filled, to be used as a woman.  Her breath comes in gasps.  He presses all the way up to the knuckle and she’s so tight as she squeezes around him.  

As her little pussy quivers, pulses, he can’t help but think _virgin tight._

The thought makes his cock jerk beneath his pants.  He was sure she would have been taken before, too pretty to go so long without being used, but she’s so tight around his finger that perhaps - perhaps she hasn’t yet had a man inside her.  No wonder she’s such a desperate little slut, so eager to be taken and filled.

And Graves will be her first.  He’ll show her how to be a woman, how to give in to her body’s purpose and let herself be completed by a man.  He’ll fill her completely, the way she deserves to filled, the way she _needs_ to be filled.

He can’t wait any longer.  His cock is throbbing, almost painful with the need to be inside her.  With one hand he fumbles for his belt while he continues to work his finger in and out of her, managing the buckle and then moving on to the buttons of his pants, groaning when he finally manages to free himself.  When he slides a second finger in she gasps and trembles, her body giving the slightest resistance before it slips inside, opening her up.  He’ll be gentle with her as she learns her place, teaching her to lie back and accept him inside.  Though it won’t be difficult  - her needy pussy grips him, trying to pull him deeper while she whimpers, her body adoring everything he does to her.

Had he known she was a virgin he would have taken her sooner.  She’s clearly been so unhappy, so needy and desperate, but helpless to know what to do.  It’s not her fault she waited so long, it’s the fault of the men in her life who let her run around and pretend to be an auror when she was not yet even a woman.  His own fault, for failing to see what was right before his eyes.

But no matter.  She will feel so much better after tonight, knowing that this is what her body was meant to be used for.

He situates himself between her legs, taking his cock in hand and pressing the head to her dripping entrance.  She must feel the change because her hand twitches as though trying to reach for him, her pussy pulsing with need.

“Oh baby, I know.  I’m so sorry you had to wait this long.”

He rubs the head of his cock against her, not quite pushing in yet as he coats it in her juices.  Her body has made itself ready for him, ready to take her first cock.

“Ready darling?” he whispers, and he begins to roll his hips forward.

Her entrance gives around the head, squeezing him gently and making him moan, needing to plant a hand down on the mattress to steady himself.  He presses forward again, opening her up with his cock.  He's amazed at her tightness, as though her body were saving itself just for him, and he rolls his hips a few times, just working the head in and out to help her pussy stretch around him.  She's teasing him, giving him only so little when they both want it so much.

When he can fit the head inside with ease he starts to work her open with little thrusts; gentle, but pressing in deeper each time.  He works slowly, forcing himself to maintain his composure for this.  It's not something to do in a haze of blind lust, and Tina needs him to be in control.  Her body needs to learn what it's for.

He can feel her starting to give around him, relaxing to accept him inside as he penetrates her.  He works her deeply, slowly making a space for himself inside her body.  With each thrust he sinks a little deeper into her, filling up that void inside her, making her whole.  Her soft flesh quivers and throbs, her heat surrounding him as he pushes right into the core of her.

By the time he’s finally nestled deep inside her he’s panting, breath coming in short gasps as he’s nearly overwhelmed with the way her pussy grips him, lightly pulsing.  There is nothing like the feeling of a woman’s cunt.

He grips her hips, pulling her down further into his lap and burying himself impossibly deeper.  She makes a little noise - soft, grateful to be filled.  With a shuddering breath, her pulls his hips back and thrusts.  He can see the strength of it ripple through her body, making her tremble and her breasts jiggle.  He groans, rolling his hips to fuck her deep, building up a steady pace as he works that most intimate part of her.  The wet slap of flesh against flesh fills the room, the sound of a woman fulfilling her purpose.

He loses himself in it.  She feels so good gripping his cock, making heat pool in his abdomen and sending sparks up his spine.  His strokes are deep and long, ensuring that she feels it, that her first time is good and thorough.  There will be no doubt after this, no question about what she is or what she's for.  She is going to feel so much better.

His thrusts begin to speed up of their own accord, instinct taking over as the pleasure rises.  He reaches up to grope her breast, lost in how good her body feels.  He grunts as he slams into her, using her as a woman is meant to be used, thrusts starting to lose their rhythm as he gets closer to the edge.

He grips her hips hard, and with one last brutal thrust he buries himself inside her, cock twitching as pleasure races up his spine.  He fills her deep, spilling into her and ensuring her body feels the warm flood of his seed.  She grips him, pussy milking him as he comes and taking his release inside herself.  It's glorious.  In that moment they're bonded, tied together in pleasure, sharing something so intimate - for Tina, so special.  She is a proper woman now, made so by the come pooling inside her, and Graves groans to know he's filled her so deeply.

Together they come down from it.  Graves’ breathing evens out and he feels so satisfied, so content.  He shifts his hips, beginning to pull out, but Tina’s pussy contracts around him to keep him inside, not wanting to be empty even now.  He chuckles, but he will indulge her.  When he releases her hips there are dark bruises blossoming beneath her skin, and he frowns - he hadn't realized he gripped her so hard.  But a woman should feel it her first time, and clearly she had enjoyed it.

He lays his body overtop of hers, letting himself soften inside her as he enjoys the aftershocks of pleasure.  He cups one hand on her breast, just to hold her, sliding his arm around her waist and placing little kisses at her hairline.

“You were so good for me,” he says softly.  “Such a good girl.  It's all right now, you don't have to worry.”

When the glow has finally faded he sits up, pulling out of her and watching his come trickle from her pink, open entrance.

“Now, that won't do.”

He chases it back inside with a finger, unwilling to let her waste his release just because she doesn't realize how much she needs it.  He quickly glances around, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed and sliding it under her hips.  It props her up, angling her so that none of his come will slip out and she won't have to worry.  She needs his come inside her to feel whole, even if she's still too inexperienced to realize it.  It's a good thing he's here to take care of her.

He takes a moment to look down at her before he undresses, settling into bed beside her and pulling her in close.  She smells so good.  She smells like sex.

He holds her as he falls asleep, sated and content.

 

 

When Tina wakes she feel awful.  Her head is pounding before she even opens her eyes and she feels queasy, as though the bed were slowly tilting side to side.  She fists a hand into the sheets and groans, rolling over to bury her head in her pillow.

But it’s not _her_ pillow.  It doesn’t smell right, it’s not soft enough, and the pillowcase Queenie made isn’t on it.  

She clings to the thought, pondering the oddness of the pillow, because it’s easier than thinking about the ache between her legs.

Ice settles in the pit of her stomach.  She doesn’t want to open her eyes.  She doesn’t want to know where she is.  She just wants to go back to sleep and wake up at home.

“Good morning, darling.  Are you awake?”

She knows that voice.  Is that… “Director Graves?” she asks, opening her eyes blearily and squinting against the too-bright morning sunlight.  He’s there beside her, looking down at her, and a wave of nausea hits her.

Memories of the previous night swim through her mind, bits and pieces, disjointed and without context.  The gala.  Laughing at Graves’ stories.  The taste of champaign.  The uncomfortable squeeze of apparition, and then… nothing.

What happened last night?

“Are you all right?” he asks, a concerned frown creasing his face.  He rests a hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly over her skin.

Her - her bare skin.

All at once she feels the sheets against her body, naked _everywhere,_ and though it makes her head lurch she jerks back across the bed, drawing the blanket in tight around herself.  It makes the ache inside her intensify, sharpening and lancing right through the core of her.  She’s sticky between her legs, with something dried onto her and pulling on her skin.  She knows what it means but her mind refuses to think it.

“What happened?” she manages, voice taut and strained.

“You don't remember?” he asks.  “You were incredible last night.”

No.  No, no, no, please Merlin, gods above her, no.

“What _happened?”_ she says again, voice breaking.  She tries to remember, tries to think through the throbbing ache in her head, but nothing comes.  Only hazy memories of the gala, being glad of Graves’ company.

“I don’t understand, Tina.  You told me you loved it.”

Her chest is so tight it’s painful.  She wraps her arms around herself protectively, shaking her head with shock and disbelief.  “The gala…”

“We left early.  It’s all right Tina,” he says gently, reaching a hand out towards her.  He lets it drop when she flinches away.  “You kissed me on the front steps.  I said you should go home, but you practically begged me, darling.  How could I resist you?  Surely you remember.”

Slowly, trembling, she shakes her head.

“Ah, silly girl, I told you not to drink so much.”

Was that it?  She’d gotten drunk and thrown herself at the Director?  She doesn’t want it to be true.  She’d never drunk to excess like that before, she’d never begged to - to sleep with someone, never felt the way she apparently had last night.  

She did drink, though, she knows.  And she was so glad to have Graves there with her.

Maybe it is true.

Graves must see the change in her face.  “Come now, darling.  There’s no need to be ashamed.  You were only asking for what you wanted.  There’s no harm in that, but don’t make me feel guilty for giving it to you.”

Tina takes a shuddering breath, wondering if he’s right.  She can’t beg for something and then be upset when she gets it, that isn’t fair.  She may feel awful about it now, but it’s her own fault.  She can’t put that on Graves.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s all right.  You’re shaking, Tina, come here.”

He reaches out to her again and this time she lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close against his side.  She doesn't know how she feels being so close to him, but she can't push him away when she's already been so awful to him.

He holds her and soothes her, talking to her softly as the pounding in her head reduces to a dull throb.

“Your body must have needed it so much.  It's not your fault, you couldn't control yourself.  And you were so good for me.”

Tears prick at Tina’s eyes.  She wipes them away roughly, furious at herself for crying, for being so upset, for getting drunk and making all of this happen in the first place.  Graves notices.  He leans down to kiss her forehead.

“Your body knew exactly what it needed.  If not last night it would have happened eventually, that’s just part of being a woman.  Don’t cry over it.”

She tries not to, but the tears slip down her cheeks all the same.  They dampen the fabric of Graves’ shirt, and he pulls away.

“Tina,” he says, and shakes his head.  “I’ll make you some coffee, all right?  You’ll feel better.”

He gets up from the bed, closing the bedroom door and leaving Tina alone.  Once he’s gone Tina rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to pull herself together and stop this nonsense.  She’s shaken, vulnerable, but there’s no sense crying.  Not when it can’t change anything.

She slowly pulls herself up and takes in her surroundings, forcing herself to focus.  Graves’ bedroom is big and luxurious, morning sunlight streaming in through cracks in the curtains and falling on the hardwood floor.  Her dress is crumpled beside the bed, her panties and stockings beside it, and she feels sick at how wanton she must have been not to even lay her clothes out on a chair.

She climbs out of the bed quickly, refusing to look down at herself as she hastily dresses.  The dress is the last thing she wants to wear, the cut of it making her feel exposed, but it’s better than the alternative.  She still feels disgusting, coated with dried fluids, and all she wants to do is go home.

She has to get home.  Queenie will be so worried about her, and she feels stifled in Graves’ room, trapped and anxious and vulnerable.

She just - she just wants to go home.

Graves finds her again a few minutes later, pressing a hot cup of coffee into her hands and encouraging her to sit beside him.  He seems to think she’ll come around.  The warmth of the coffee seeps through the ceramic mug, warming her hands, but her stomach won’t settle.

When it becomes apparent that she won’t calm any time soon he seems to feel there’s not much more he can do for her.  He reassures her again, helps her up, and in a daze she finds herself on his doorstep.  She disapparates with a crack.

She feels numb.  The guilt and violation has congealed in her stomach, a constant weight she can’t forget.

Queenie emerges as soon as Tina opens the front door, wrapped up in a robe with her hair mussed on one side. She takes one look at Tina and dismay blooms across her face.

The saving grace of having a legilimens for a sister is that Tina doesn’t have to say a word.

Queenie makes breakfast while Tina cleans herself up.  She locks the bathroom door and strips off her flimsy dress.  She doesn’t want to be naked, but even more than that she doesn’t want to be filthy.  She casts it away into the corner, not sure if she ever wants to look at it again and not wanting to think about it now.  

She steps into the shower quickly, letting the water run too hot so that the room fills with steam.  She wants to scrub off each place he touched her, but she doesn’t even know where that is.  She settles for everywhere, scrubbing until her skin is pink and raw and sore.  She tries to ignore the ache within her, tries not to think about what caused it.

But it scares her.  She’s never hurt so deep within herself before, and all she can do is repeat to herself _it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,_ trying to make it true.

She finds bruises purpling on her hips, and she breaks down.  They’re tender and sore to the touch, pressed deep into her skin by Graves’ hands, and the images they conjure up make her want to vomit.  He held her there as he opened her up deep inside, and she doesn’t even remember it.

She leans against the shower wall and sobs.

 

 

She wants to forget it ever happened.

She wants desperately to pretend it was just a normal weekend, to go back to her life and put all of it out of her mind the best she can.  She feels awful, but it’s over now.  She can let the churning guilt and nausea fade into the background and forget.

But on Monday morning Graves is there.  She knew she’d have to see him, but surely he’d be respectful - he knew she regretted it, he was a decent man, he wouldn’t want to remind her.

He catches her alone in the breakroom.  She turns around and he's there, taking her by the waist as he smiles.  Her breath stalls in her throat.

“Good morning darling,” he says, and _why does he have to call her that?_

“Director,” she manages.  She looks down, away, unwilling to meet his warm gaze.  She wants to be left alone.  The nausea is back curling in her stomach, that distinctive mix of guilt and shame and violation that makes the room feel as though it's pressing in on her.

He mistakes her unwillingness for shyness and chuckles, pulling her in close.

“How do you look so beautiful in absolutely everything you wear?”

She shakes her head, opening her mouth to ask him to just _stop, please,_ but before her tongue can find the words he places a finger over her lips.

“Shh.”

The gesture makes her feel small.

“Relax.  I know exactly what you need.”

His hand falls to the rise of her breast, fingers at her throat as he slips loose the top button of her blouse.  She watches his hand, feeling sick and strangely empty.

“There.”  He smiles at her, tipping her head up with a finger under her chin.  “Beautiful.”

She’s trembling.  She can’t move, she can’t breathe, she needs to be anywhere but here.

All she can do is stare up at him as he kisses her.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com)!


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